


Relaxation Technique

by teh_gelfling



Series: Prowl/Red [9]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Slash, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:01:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3749200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teh_gelfling/pseuds/teh_gelfling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red's stressed. Prowl helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relaxation Technique

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: From the kinkmeme – REQ: Any, Any, Blow-job http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/13205.html?thread=14940053
> 
> Hope I did it justice.
> 
> If you feel like it, leave a comment or critique. I love knowing what my readers like and don't like about my stories.

Prowl looked up from his datapad as the door to his quarters whooshed open to admit Red Alert. The Security Director paused in his charge only long enough to make sure the door locked properly behind him, then continued on to the sofa where Prowl sat. He all but threw himself into a sprawl onto the side the Praxian wasn't occupying and huffed irritatedly.

Prowl noted little tells signifying a breakdown was in the offing unless the mech was effectively derailed. "You're earlier than I expected. What happened?"

“I have been instructed to... _relax_.” The last word was said with such disgust that Prowl could barely keep a wicked grin back.

"I'm assuming this is a medical order and Ratchet has enforced it."

Overly-bright optics narrowed angrily. "Kicked me out of my own office! Said I work too much and don't take enough time for myself! I've been refuelling appropriately, and I recharge more regularly than I used to. I fail to see what the problem is."

A doorwing flicked in a shrug and Prowl set the datapad aside. “You have been taking far better care of yourself recently. But Ratchet's word is law. And … I _think_ … I just might be able to help you with that.” The black and white let his lips curve into that smile, but slowly, gradually. He shifted over closer to his lover and ran a hand lightly down one of Red Alert's arms. He picked up the hand from where it laid in the Lambo's lap and brought it to his face, nuzzling it and placing a soft kiss in the centre of the palm. Blue optics flicked upward to look at Red's face. The colour deepened at the sharp in-vent and the subsequent whoosh of dumped air. “That is, if you're willing.”

Red shifted minutely, attempting to ease the pressure on his suddenly very constricting pelvic plating. “What – ah, what did you have in mind?”

“Oh, nothing much. I thought I'd start with kisses. Here,” and he kissed the hand he still held again, “and here,” this time it was the neck, “and... here.” Slow, soft kisses full on Red's mouth.

“Mm, that’s nice.” Red’s optics were dark when Prowl pulled back, and his vents were shallow. Not yet panting, but not far from it if things kept going. “So just kisses? It certainly helps, but I’m not sure they’ll relax me the way Ratchet seems to want…”

Prowl smiled. “For now. I did say I’d _start_ with kisses. I never said anything about where it would _end_.” He pressed back close, catching his lover’s mouth with his own once more. His tongue brushed over warm lips that parted under it, Red’s tongue licking out tentatively. Prowl purred. He did so love the mech’s innocence, and no matter how many times they interfaced, Red never seemed to lose any of it.

He shifted to straddle the Lambo’s lap, fingers trailing lightly over glossy chest plating and tracing seams where individual plates came together. Lips trailed down to Red’s jawline, leaving a line of kisses and tiny nibbles along it to his neck. As his mouth moved gradually lower, so too did his hands, stroking belly plating and rubbing over upper pelvic armour.

Red’s vents hitched and cooling systems spun up with a quiet whirr when white fingers brushed barely-there over his interface panel. “Nnh, Prowl…” he gasped out, optics squeezed shut against the sensations.

Prowl rose off the sofa, still maintaining contact, and eased Red’s knees apart. He slid in between them and slowly sank to his own, trailing kisses the entire way down from neck to interface panel. He vented lightly on the metal there, and whispered, “Open.”

Optics and panel opened simultaneously. Red focussed on the optics looking up at him, his vents irregular and shallow. Prowl’s hands rubbed over the metal of his thighs where they joined his hips, thumbs dipping almost into the joint to tease at wiring. They brushed over the edges of his valve on their way up to his spike housing, sending little shivers through him.

Prowl dipped his helm to lick just briefly at the exposed valve, savouring the lubricant already gathered there. He toyed with the anterior node, suckling it for a mere second before moving on to his goal: the spike that was just poking out of its housing.

He kissed the lower edge of the housing, tongue flicking out to run over its lip, then moved on to the spike itself. He licked the tip that barely protruded from its sheath, swirling his tongue about it, dipping lower into the housing to caress more of it. His hands continued their gentle massage around Red’s hip joints, thumbs almost brushing the array but never quite connecting. The barely-there touch was effectively driving the Lambo insane with want.

The spike slipped a little further out and Prowl took it into his mouth. His tongue laved over the underside of the head, then over to the top. He licked lightly over the transfluid slit and scraped teeth over the metal skin of the shaft. Little tingles of electric charge zapped his tongue and other surfaces of his mouth as Red’s spike fully pressurised and extended. Biolights along the length glowed warmly where his mouth touched them and he hummed at the feeling.

The vibrations shivered through Red Alert’s sensor net, sending charge ricocheting between spike and spark as if there were a direct connection.  He cried out, Prowl’s name on his lips, and bucked into the touches on his frame. Prowl drew off until his lover calmed, then reclaimed the spike eagerly. He didn’t want Red overloading too soon; they were both going to have ample opportunity to enjoy this. Between both of their schedules it wasn’t often that he had the opportunity to indulge himself in pleasuring his lover in this manner, and he was determined he was going to now.

He licked the spike from base to tip and back again, from underside to upper. Red whimpered at him, little sounds that made his lines burn. His tongue traced the rim of the housing, teasing between it and the shaft, then back to the head. Thin transfluid beaded there, and Prowl's tongue swept it away even as he drew the tip into his mouth.

He teased the tiny opening with his tongue, flicking over it quickly, then going back and slowly tracing around it. Red made more noises at him and Prowl tasted another little spurt of fluid. Hands gripped his helm to pull him closer, yet he resisted, pulling away completely and catching his lover's hands in his own.

"No touching, Red. You know the rules." He pinned the appendages on either side of the Lamborghini's thighs.

"And you know I can't _not_ touch you unless I'm restrained," he gasped. "I cannot resist the need to control the situation if I can." His optics were darkened but shot through with bright lines of static, and his engine revved hard.

Prowl smiled a predator's grin and Red's vents hitched. His spike twitched and dribbled more transfluid as he rocked his hips, begging for the stimulation to continue.

"Those hands stay where they are. I really don't feel like finding the rope tonight." Prowl lowered his face back even with his lover's spike and looked up at him from under his chevron. "You can manage for five minutes, right?" he purred, fluttering his doorwings, then drew a broad stripe up the spike with the flat of his tongue.

Red's hands jerked up and toward the Praxian's helm again and he shouted wordlessly. He caught himself just before contact was made and forced them back down.

"That's good. _Very_ good. I'll have to reward you for that." A single finger traced the edges of Red's valve, around and around, then dipped inside. The touch pulled a gasp out of the mech, followed immediately by a heavy moan and the clenching of hands on the cushions.

"Even better," Prowl crooned his approval. "Keep control of yourself like this for five minutes without overloading, and you can touch to your spark's content. But if I have to go find the rope, well..." He removed his finger and slowly licked it clean. "Let's just say you won't be in any position to touch me all night."

Red’s engine redlined, and the heat rising from his frame warped the air around him. His hands kneaded the cushions as Prowl took him deep, clenching and relaxing, but not leaving their designated place.

Prowl hummed around his lover's spike, listening avidly to the whimpers and revs it drew out. Red's hips twitched up and the Praxian moved with him, allowing his throat to relax and let the tip slide in.

Red shouted in surprise when he felt lips on his spike housing, and his hands jerked toward Prowl's helm. Oh how he wanted to simply hold his lover there until he overloaded. It wouldn't take much. A twitch or two, a swallow, a hum. Frag, even a simple touch to any part of his frame would likely send him over the edge at this point. Cooling systems roared with the effort to keep his temperatures within tolerance.

He gave a strangled shout of frustration and forced his hands back to the cushions. Holy Primus, that tongue! And then Prowl swallowed around him at the same time thumbs teased at his valve, and he couldn't handle the stimulation any more. The world shattered into bright shards as overload hit, then faded to black.

*****

Prowl licked the lubricant off of his fingers while he waited for Red Alert to reboot. That had been a spectacular overload. Probably one of the most powerful Red had had since... well, at least since he and Prowl began their affair. Truly, the mech needed release more often than they'd been able to achieve, and Prowl set a part of his tac-net to work on a solution to this problem. Hardly what the system had been designed to compute, and wouldn't his former fellow Enforcers be shocked to learn that uptight, rulebook-thumping Captain Prowl even thought about interface.

Come to think of it, several of their fellow Autobots would likely be sent into glitches by the thought that either Prowl or Red Alert interfaced at all, let alone with each other.

The quiet sounds of systems spinning up pulled his attention back to his lover. Red stretched luxuriously even before he was fully aware, then blue optics flashed online and Prowl was fixed with a brilliant smile.

"Welcome back." He wrapped his lover in his field, happiness and arousal foremost among the various emotions swirling therein.

"Mm. Think I saw Primus."

Prowl chuckled. "Well, because of that I'll not punish you. But you did overload before the five minutes were up."

"Hrm. Well. I don't know what to tell you. You're ridiculously talented? You already know that." Prowl preened. Red laughed. "Come here and spike me."

"I thought you'd never ask."


End file.
